


S.F. (II) Paris

by Sarah_Elmira_Royster_Poe



Series: The Geography of Europe [4]
Category: Brideshead Revisited - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1885476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Elmira_Royster_Poe/pseuds/Sarah_Elmira_Royster_Poe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An epistle written by Sebastian Flyte to Charles Ryder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	S.F. (II) Paris

I have decided  
The worst of all  
\- The ruin of a man -  
Is not to fall  
Or to get crushed between rocks and gravel.  
The death of one’s flicker  
Is to stay still, floating, suspended  
Waiting for the next trigger  
To act  
To move  
And it never comes  
Never quite registers.  
And one is left standing with hands-  
Outstretched

Because we live in one little world inside one little world,  
Yet we are separate  
Our little worlds distinct from all the other little worlds  
and all the others’ little worlds

Every other page, we turn our heads,  
Just inspecting all the previous inked words  
Sometimes we weep, sometimes we laugh

Lend me your hand  
So as to show you the marble statues of old ancestries and lineages  
Of perished pains  
Of vanished vile bodies

They were the signing on the pale arm  
The cockroach on the crisp clear white linen

And I tried to keep you away from this, you see.  
That day, that god forsaken day,  
You turned your head and saw the devil  
With that gratious grin and the silk rose robe  
And you saw opalescent pearls glistening  
on cold skin and hissing shoes.

I tried to run, you know.  
You must remember, the urgency  
I slammed the pedal, cursing gods and demons for the infernal thing to go faster  
Faster  
Harder  
Away

You turned your head, though  
You lied  
Contra Mundum, you had said  
Contra Mundum.


End file.
